


Water

by Kass



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-17
Updated: 2008-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-01 23:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal meets a married Companion. Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water

**Author's Note:**

> I initially started writing this because I wasn't sure it was possible to write a believable Mal/Inara story that didn't end disastrously. I'm still not sure it's possible, but I did my best. Sanj saw an early draft of the beginning, and liked it, so I finished it as a birthday gift for her.
> 
> Many thanks to Nestra for the beta. Sanj: happy birthday, hon, and many more!

"How long will we be on Tisiphone?" Inara swirled into the galley where Mal and Jayne were tending to their weapons.

Mal put down the gun. "Two, three days maybe. Why? Business?"

She put the kettle on for tea, then turned to face him, all in one smooth movement. "No, actually. One of my dearest friends from the Academy lives there; I haven't seen her in years. I'd like the chance to spend the day with her and her husband."

"Shouldn't be a problem. We've got cargo to unload, and it ought to be a day or two before the next—Wait a minute: husband?"

"Surely you're familiar with the term."

"_Dahng rahn_," Mal sniped back, wondering why conversations like this one always felt like he was treading water. "So she don't work as a Companion anymore, I take it."

"Of course she does. What would give you that idea?"

Mal knew his answer would piss her off. Fortunately Jayne took care of it for him, dropping the knife he was sharpening with a clatter. "Married Companion? How's that work?" Before she could respond, he gave a dirty little laugh. "The two of 'em work together, is that it?"

"Really, this is far less complicated than the two of you seem to think."

Amazing, how she managed to sound like she was rolling her eyes when she wasn't doing any such thing.

"Titia's married. And still works as a Companion. And no, her husband doesn't mind." She fixed them with a glance. "Some men are sufficiently secure in their relationships and their masculinity that they're not threatened by our line of work."

Mal found his voice again. "And I take it your friend's husband is one such man."

"Exactly."

Just then the kettle whistled, and Inara turned to pour herself a cup of tea. Seemed like a good time to focus on cleaning the barrel of his revolver; Mal wasn't sure what was showing on his face, but whatever it was, he figured odds were good he wanted to keep it to himself. "Like I said, two, three days. Do what you want to do."

"I appreciate your permission, Captain," she said, and swept out of the room.

"Don't even say it," Mal warned Jayne, and Jayne had the sense not to reply.

* * *

When Mal pushed his way into her shuttle, Inara was talking to a woman whose onscreen image, though small and staticky, was stunning. Waves of hair he guessed were red, full lips, and a smile warm enough to melt even the frostiest exterior. Like, say, Inara's.

"Mal! I'm busy," she said, sounding perturbed.

"Oops. Didn't mean to intrude." He stuck his thumbs in his suspenders and waited.

Inara huffed out a breath of exasperation and turned back to the monitor. "Titia, I'm sorry, let me call you back."

"Don't worry about it, _baobei_! We'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Are you sure there's no one you want to bring to dinner?"

Without stopping to think, Mal stepped forward, into view of the screen. "I'd be honored to join you."

"Mal, you can't—" Inara began.

"Our pleasure, Captain Reynolds," Titia said smoothly.

"I don't want to impose—" Inara protested.

"It's no trouble. Really. We've been wanting to meet that Captain of yours."

Mal preferred not to analyze how those words made him feel. Hot and cold all over, but beyond that the mix was too complex and emotional for his comfort.

"Fine," Inara sighed. "I'll call you when we're planetside."

"_Tzaijien,_" Titia said, and the screen went blank.

For a long moment Inara stayed facing the screen, her back to Mal, and he was beginning to worry that he'd really blown it this time when she finally turned around.

"I could really use a vacation," she said, which were not the words he was expecting.

"And? You're about to get one. We'll be there four days, not three, so there's even more time than you thought."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe you're part of what I need the vacation _from_?"

It had, but he hadn't liked the notion. Mal shrugged, uncomfortable. "You say I don't understand you."

"For reasons that should be manifestly obvious."

"Maybe if I meet your friends, you'll make more sense."

After a moment her shoulders relaxed. He hadn't realized how clearly she was telegraphing restrained fury until it melted away. "I was enjoying feeling angry with you. You're going to give me whiplash."

This was familiar ground; Mal felt himself relaxing, too. "Should I say something rude so you can be righteously indignant again?"

Inara laughed. "No thanks. It'll happen soon enough without you trying."

"Fair enough," Mal allowed, then took an ironical little bow and headed back to the bridge. He resisted the urge to whistle as he went.

* * *

Inara headed out shortly after they landed, River setting the ship down gentle as (a leaf on the wind) could be.

Mal had cargo to unload, or at least to supervise the unloading-of; he nodded when Inara called the address to him, and ostentatiously turned back to the pallets of gear parts. Somebody on this gorram ship had to be making a living, and honestly he was happier when it was him 'stead of her anyway.

He spent too long staring at himself in the mirror after his shower, and was almost late. The directions were good, though, and he found his way to the house with little difficulty—a small walled compound with a heavy red lacquered door. When the door opened, Titia kissed him on both cheeks and welcomed him inside.

The little entry courtyard led into a smallish house, though the compound walls continued past the building: back courtyard, Mal guessed. Simple, but everything real: fine wood, polished stone. A marble Buddha (was every Companion in the 'verse a Buddhist? Was it in their code somewhere?) draped with offerings of flowers.

"Inara's out in the garden with Li," Titia said, taking Mal's arm. "Would you like a drink?"

"Wouldn't say no," he said, and she smiled.

"Sake okay?"

"Shiny."

She pushed him toward a carved door. "They're that way. I'll be back in a second."

Slightly more nervous than he wanted to admit, Mal gently eased the door open. Outside was a tea garden around a koi pond, the same simple lines as the house but softened by some kind of flowering vine. Inara had her back to the door but was laughing, a sound like bells.

"How do," Mal said, and in the moment of her turning he saw the flash of nervousness in her face. Hell, he wasn't there to embarrass her, didn't she know that?

Li stood and smiled at Mal, holding out his hand. He was about Mal's height; Mal guessed he was a couple years older than Titia. The laugh lines around his eyes were deep. "Welcome," he said. "I've been wanting to meet the man responsible for getting the Miranda story out."

Mal shook his hand, pleasantly surprised by the firm grip and the warm reception. "Couldn't have done it without my crew," he said. "Finest team in the 'verse."

"That's as may be, but you're the one that led them," Li said.

Mal felt himself in startling danger of his ears turning red. Fortunately, Titia burst through the door at that very moment, bearing a bottle of warmed sake and four stacked cups.

Mal took two cups from her, let her pour the wine into them, and handed one to Inara with a little flourish. The warmth he felt as he took his first swig was surely from the alcohol, not from Inara's smile.

* * *

Drinks led into dinner—meat, noodles, flatbread, every real flavor a rich explosion against his tongue—and more drinks. Mal told stories; Titia and Li were an appreciative audience, and Inara seemed pleasantly surprised that he was capable of being entertaining. He preferred not to think about the insulting implications of that.

The only awkward moment came when Titia mentioned Nandi and Inara had to tell her the news. Mal busied himself with his chopsticks, not wanting to risk seeing Inara's face. But Titia, no stranger to the arts of flowing conversation, moved them in a new direction almost instantly, and after a few minutes Mal felt okay again.

In the tiny innermost courtyard, it turned out, they had a tub—a proper Japanese bath, like on Earth-that-Was—and Inara practically melted in her chair when Titia mentioned it.

"I though you might enjoy a soak," Titia said, her eyes crinkling.

"You have no idea."

"Water's a bit scarce on a boat like ours," Mal agreed.

"Mal? Will you join us?"

For an instant Mal froze in his seat. Wasn't like he'd never been naked in company before—that unfortunate job on Bellerophon did come to mind—but this felt too much like a seduction attempt for his comfort.

Li rescued him. "Alternately, you could join me for a brandy."

"Wise man I used to know advised me never to turn down a good brandy," Mal said, wobbly with relief.

"You're both welcome to join us later if you choose," Titia said, smoothly, rising from the table and offering Inara her arm. "There's plenty of room."

"Yeah. Thanks," Mal muttered, watching them walk out. He turned to Li, resolutely not thinking about what the women were about to be doing. "Drink?"

* * *

"How d'you stand it?" Mal knew his words were slurring a little, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Hm?"

"The work she does."

It was a minute or two before Li answered. "A Companion is who Titia is. If I asked her to give that up, she wouldn't be the woman I fell in love with."

"That don't exactly answer my question."

"I don't see that there's anything to 'stand,' honestly."

"But she sleeps with other men." Mal couldn't keep the harshness out of his voice.

"And women, too."

How the hell could Li be so lighthearted about it? "That don't bother you?"

"No," Li said. "It doesn't."

"I can't fathom that."

"When I met Titia I was twenty-five," Li said. "I'd been with half a dozen women. At least two of them I honestly loved, or thought I did."

"Yeah," Mal said, impatient. "Just because you loved them then don't mean you can't love her now. Fact is, it makes you more able to love her. That where you're going with this?"

"More or less," Li said, mildly.

"But that ain't the same as her being with somebody else now. Don't you ever wonder what they got that you don't?"

Li shrugged. "That doesn't really matter to me. What does matter is that I'm the one she comes home to."

"And if she didn't?"

"She always will."

Mal sighed and topped off both of their glasses. "That certainty is something to be envied," he said, ruefully.

"I think you might find it easier than you imagine."

"When'd we start talking about me?" Mal knew if he were slightly more sober, he'd take umbrage at the way Li shifted the conversation around. But thanks to the warm buzz of the brandy, he couldn't seem to muster anger, just a vague sense that it ought to be there and wasn't.

Li laughed. "Come on. The water'll do you good."

Mal wasn't sure why he stood when Li offered a hand, but he followed Li around the stone walkway to the bath.

* * *

The water was agitated enough that you couldn't see much beneath it. That was a comfort, at least; Mal only felt exposed for the thirty seconds it took to shuck his kit and climb into the tub.

It was almost too hot to bear, steaming enough to create its own little microclimate. He couldn't seem to help the half-moan of satisfaction that escaped him when he was fully in the water. Fortunately, nobody batted an eye; he guessed Inara'd done the same thing.

And he tried not to imagine what it had sounded like when she did. He closed his eyes. Easier not to feast on the sight of her bare shoulders that way.

"Good, isn't it?"

"Mmm," he said, and let himself drift. Titia was telling a story about somebody she and Inara used to know; he didn't really need to be listening. They wouldn't mind if he just settled in to the water for a while...

* * *

He woke with a start, head almost splashing into the water. The lights around the pool were dimmed; he was the only one there.

What kind of _ben tien-sheng de'i dueh ro_ fell asleep in a hot tub? Rice wine must've been stronger than he thought.

Well, that and the brandy.

"Sleep well?" Inara's voice cut through his reverie.

"_Ai-ya_!" Mal almost jumped out of his skin.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He could hear her smiling.

"'S fine, I just...didn't know you were there," he said, lamely.

"I came out to check on you. I was a little worried you might have drowned." She emerged from the dark of the garden, offering a towel, folded and plush.

Nothing for it but to get out of the tub, then. Mal stood, though he couldn't quite decide between moving fast to conceal his body and strutting like he didn't care what she saw.

Towel felt damn good, though. Soft and thick. He wasn't used to that much water; his skin felt tender.

"How long was I out?"

"About thirty minutes," she said. "Our hosts have gone to bed."

Mal reached for his clothes—folded, which he was pretty sure he wasn't responsible for—and started getting dressed. "Please tell them I apologize for nodding off like that. No way to repay their hospitality."

"You won't tell them yourself?"

"Best be getting back to the ship." Mal tugged on his shirt and started buttoning it carefully, from the bottom up. No point looking more the fool than he already did.

"It's late, and we don't know how safe the streets are "

"I've handled worse."

"There's room, if you want to stay."

There was a silence. Mal made himself look her in the eye. "If " He had to clear his throat. "If you're"

"Your own room," she clarified, hastily.

He didn't want to think about the stab of disappointment that brought on. "Naturally. Wouldn't have imagined otherwise." He turned to walk away.

"Mal "

Against his better judgement, he turned back. "How long are we going to play this game, Inara?"

Score one for him. Not the question she'd been expecting.

But she recovered quick. "How long will you be unwilling, or unable, to respect what I do?"

"That ain't it at all!" Only an effort of will prevented Mal from shouting. "I just don't want to be one of a thousand faceless men you take to your bed."

The slap of her hand across his face stung, though he didn't flinch. "No one I have taken to my bed has ever been faceless to me," Inara hissed. Her eyes were bright. "And you least of all."

"You ain't taken me to your bed." The words felt pulled out of him, as though on a string.

"You never admitted you wanted me to." She was still standing close enough to touch him; in the dim lantern light he could see the flush across her decolletage, the movement of her breast as she breathed.

Desire weakened his knees. "More than I ought to."

"Hm?"

Mal tok a dizzied half-step toward her. Was he really saying this? "I want it more than I ought to."

"Why does it always have to be about 'ought' with you?"

"Maybe it don't," he murmured, and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

His rough hands on the smooth skin of the small of her back. Her silks sliding off one shoulder, then pooling on the floor. The feel of her long thighs, pressed apart, and the way her voice changed when he tasted her. How quickly pleasure became desperation.

How unpolished and unpracticed it was. No fancy tricks, like he'd imagined and halfway feared, just the oldest dance in the world.

How it felt when she gasped his name. The exultation, and the heat.

There were plenty of things in Malcolm Reynolds' life he wouldn't ever be able to forget, whether he wanted to or not. This he damn well wanted to remember.

* * *

Long time since he'd slept in a room with windows, even curtained ones; the changing light woke Mal at dawn. He disentangled himself and dressed quietly. Part of him wanted to bolt, right then, like it hadn't happened, but he stood at the foot of the bed a minute and watched her sleep.

"Mal," she murmured, eyes opening.

He steeled himself to see something unpleasant—guilt was unlikely, but he figured the odds of regret were pretty high—but it wasn't there. "Mornin'."

"You going back to the ship?"

"Reckon so. Zoe'll be wondering where the hell I got to."

Inara closed her eyes and smiled. "Don't be so sure of that."

Despite himself, Mal couldn't keep his poker face up; he smiled back, even though she couldn't see him. "You look a little smug, there."

"Can't seem to help it." She nestled back into the blankets.

Mal stifled the urge to crawl back into bed with her and turned toward the door.

"I imagine you look the same way," Inara said.

Mal glanced in the mirror and shrugged. "You might be right," he admitted, and quietly opened the bedroom door.

He thought hard about the place where regret ought to be, like a kid poking at a sore tooth with his tongue, but it didn't hurt like he thought it would.

Next time she took a client.... Well: he'd deal with that when it came around, and no sooner. Didn't want to think about it now in any event.

Titia and Li had left several sheets of paper, ink, and a brush on the living room table. Thoughtful of them. Mal paused a second, thinking, then wrote, "Endless thanks for your hospitality. Next time our travels bring us through, you're invited for dinner aboard, though we mostly eat protein bars, so you might want to bring the dinner." Not as gentlemanly as it could've been, but he meant it, and he figured they'd understand.

Mal let himself out of the compound and headed out, across the quiet streets that almost looked pretty in the cold clear light of early morning, toward home.


End file.
